


Carpe Diem

by GoldBlooded



Series: Carpe Vitam [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldBlooded/pseuds/GoldBlooded
Summary: The sister fic for Carpe Noctem!(Basically parts of Carpe Noctem told from points of view that aren't just Steve and Bucky)





	1. In Which Morita Needs a Stiff Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the companion piece of [Carpe Noctem](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898305/chapters/29466150)! If you haven't read that you may want to because none of this is going to make anyyyy sense at all. You don't have to (do what you want!) but I'm just saying.
> 
> These little tidbids are things that happen during and in the background of the main events in Noctem. Call them outtakes, call them bonus features, call them what you will. They're extras. This 'verse has grown bigger than I anticipated and it won't all fit into Noctem, so here, have more! <3
> 
> Note: This will NOT be updated regularly like Noctem, so you'd best subscribe if you wanna know when things are added. It's gonna be pretty willy-nilly.
> 
> Thanks to LightningStriking and Chicklette for all that you do for me. Which is a lot, let's be real.

Morita would be lying if he said he’d expected the trip up to the bunker to go smoothly. He’d just thought the problems would arise _before_ the bus (which they did) or after (which they still might), but not actually _on_ the bus. Not like this.

Dum Dum was driving them further north while Morita saw to Ron the bus driver and his probably broken nose. Gabe had gone upstairs to talk to the passengers about what happened and tell them they were safe, for now, and on their way to the Canadian border, though the Howlies themselves would be getting off soon. They had someplace to be, and Montreal wasn’t it.

Ron looked about as ship-shape as he could with bruises inking across his face like watercolors and gauze shoved up his nose. He wasn’t concussed though, so he could keep driving the bus once the Howlies got off.

This whole shitstorm was ridiculous. Alphas trying to take over? What was the fucking point? Nothing good had ever come from alphas being in charge. Not that a whole lot of good had come from betas being in charge either; Morita was convinced that they either needed to have mixed representation of all the designations or just fucking let the omegas run the show. Cuz for real, taking care of stuff was literally what they were made for and they were pretty damn good at it.

Alphas? Alphas fucking wrecked shit.

To be honest, Morita didn’t like being alpha. He would have made an _awesome_ beta, a great middle ground. He didn’t like anything about the alpha life: didn’t like the ruts, the stereotypes, the pre-rut rage, none of it. But he didn’t really have a choice in the matter, and it’s not like his designation was a surprise. All of the first borns on his Pop’s side, dating all the way back to shogun-era Okayama Prefecture, were alphas. And yup, Jim was the oldest of three.

Morita was happy to have found the alpha club, which he himself joined after interviewing Gabe about it on air for his show. These were a group of fellas that wanted to be better, be more. Some were great alphas, like Bucky and Dum Dum and Tasha. Some were like him, feeling as if they’d be better suited to a different designation (Gabe and Monty). The one thing all of them had in common was wanting to be anything but what society saw them as.

And that? That Morita could get on board with.

Too bad these HYDRA motherfuckers had to come and wreck shit. Morita wished his great-grandmother were alive to curse them. She had some scary ritual thing that would come in handy right now. (Say what you want about superstitions but Morita had seen that lady do some _shit_.) In lieu of her wrath, he wished plagues upon all their houses, stubbed toes every day of their lives, and endless games of Go Fish with sticky children. Or, you know, instant karmic death. Whatever works.

Everything was alright for now, and they were coming up on Plattsburgh, which would be the easiest town to hike to the bunker from. Ron said he was okay but Dum Dum wouldn’t turn the bus back over to him until they reached the town. Morita sat down behind Ron, and for the 42nd time that day, palmed the stupidly ornate skeleton key in his pocket to make sure it was still there.

He leaned his head back and thought of all the different ways the fight could have gone. Bucky was who knows where, maybe killed, maybe not. They hadn’t murdered him on the spot so that was something. They hadn’t actually seen Bucky die and he was fighting tooth and nail when he roared for them to get the hell out of there, so Morita had hope. If there’s anything a couple of years watching that dude in the ring had taught him, it was to never bet against Bucky Barnes in a fight.

He was worried about the omega though, the little guy with bright eyes that smelled like mid-summer evenings. Morita had never seen Bucky look at an omega like that. Hell, he’d never seen _anyone_ look at an omega who was a stranger like that, not ever. Not like they were instantly the most important thing in the world, not like their whole life depended on the well-being of said omega. Bucky looked at the omega like his great-grandmother used to tell stories about when he was a child. What was the phrase she used?

 _Unmei no._ Fated.

The way Bucky had protected the omega with more ferocity than Morita had ever seen confirmed it for him. He itched to do something, to _help_. Great-grandmother taught him that an _unmei no_ was a rare gift, to be cherished and protected at all costs. If there was a way to save Bucky and his _unmei no_ then he would do it. First, though, they had to get to the bunker.

Dum Dum didn’t even bother to pull the bus over, just stopped in in the middle of the deserted two-lane highway. The Howlies bundled up and pulled out their flashlights. Dum Dum grabbed Bucky’s bag and swung it over his shoulder with his own and they said their goodbyes and good lucks to Ron before disembarking.

It was fucking _cold_ in the Adirondacks. Seriously, fuck this shit. Morita started to miss the light-jacket weather Fresno would be experiencing this time of year, though he didn’t miss that shithole town.

Gabe used a compass to navigate to the coordinates on the tattered slip of paper that accompanied Pop’s key while Dum Dum led the way. Couple miles hike, no big deal.

...Unless you were Morita and hated working out, then it became a very big deal because he was sweating and panting and not in the fun way and _fuck_ the Adirondacks and _fuuuuuck_ HYDRA for making him have to hike up the side of a mountain in the first place.

Morita wished them an additional plague upon their houses and two more of great-grandmother’s wraths.

Finally, _finally,_ after what seemed like an actual century had passed, they came to a footpath, which led to a cave, which wasn’t a cave at all but actually a cleverly concealed set of huge metal doors with a keyhole.

“Well, Champ, looks like you’re up,” said Dum Dum, and Morita was pleased to see that he was also out of breath.

He took the stupidly ornate skeleton key out of his pocket and slipped it into the keyhole, and turned.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing. He tried turning harder, he tried taking it out and starting over, tried again and again and there was panic bubbling in his chest and then he turned the key counterclockwise and then-

_Click._

A normal-size door within the giant metal doors swung open a few feet away from them. Morita retrieved the key and Gabe motioned for him to go through the door first.

Whatever Morita was expecting? It wasn’t this.

The bunker was warm, and lit, and there was classic rock music playing somewhere inside. It was huge, and beyond luxurious, beyond opulent- Morita didn’t have the words to describe the marble floors and pillars and the gigantic crystal chandelier twinkling at them from above. This was the most bizarre thing that Morita had ever experienced.

“Holy fuckin’ tits on a bull,” said Dum Dum. And yup, that would about sum it up.

Gabe clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “Ya done good, Morita. Ya done good.”

They followed the classic rock further into the bunker, marveling at the paintings and rugs and honest-to-god floral arrangements as they went.

They rounded a corner and saw what looked like a workshop and a dark-haired man sitting on the floor with his back to them, tinkering with something while an array of parts was strewn around him. A willowy strawberry-blonde woman was curled up and reading on a fancy sofa against one of the walls, and glanced up.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in a melodic voice. “Hello there.” The surprise on her face did nothing to take away from her angular beauty and the kindness in her eyes.

The man on the floor whipped his head around so fast the crack echoed around the marble room.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bunker?” he demanded.

“Holy shit,” said Morita. “You’re Tony Stark.”  



	2. In Which Steve Gets Bucked

Being with Bucky was more intense than anything Steve had imagined. The sheer amount of trust and desire between them blew Steve’s mind and made him want the alpha even more. 

Bucky kissed him like he was something to be treasured, something valuable, but not something breakable. When Bucky had laid Steve out like a feast to consume, stark naked and vulnerable, he wanted to shy away and cover himself. But Bucky had just looked at him like he was the most alluring thing in the world. And when Bucky told him he was beautiful it was said in such earnestness and open admiration Steve had no choice but to believe him. 

His alpha thought he was beautiful. That’s all Steve ever really needed, though he didn’t know until he had it.

Bucky himself was magnificent, even more so now that he was healed and in prime shape again. The rasp of his stubble against Steve’s skin burned in the best way and Steve wanted it forever. The alpha’s fingers were tight and possessive against his skin, and Steve was yearning to be marked up with fingerprint bruises.

The feeling of Bucky on top of and around him was unlike anything Steve had experienced. Though Bucky’s bulk was heavy, it was controlled, and he never squashed Steve or made him feel trapped. Fitting beneath Bucky and all that muscular weight was comforting and Steve felt like he had never truly known what it was to belong somewhere until he was under Bucky.

When Bucky had  _ thanked  _ him for sharing his body and heat with him Steve thought his heart might explode. And when Bucky had growled that he wanted to ruin Steve for everyone else Steve thought for sure he was hallucinating. How,  _ how _ could he ever want another when there wasn’t a single person in the world who could make Steve feel the way that Bucky did? Didn’t Bucky understand that he was the absolute pinnacle of everything Steve had ever wanted?

Every time Bucky got close to Steve’s bonding glands he wanted to ask, to  _ beg _ the alpha to bite him, but he was awash with too many feelings, too much pleasure and the words just wouldn’t form.

Steve was physically aching from his first unsuppressed heat since he’d presented his designation. He had needed Bucky in a desperate, consuming way and when Bucky finally slipped inside of Steve and filled him, Steve’s whole body and soul felt like it was waking and blossoming and Steve understood that this was what it felt like to truly be alive.


	3. In Which Tony Makes New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Chicklette, the best beta a girl could ask for! <3

There were no words in the English language - or any language, really - to accurately describe the rage, indignation, humiliation, and wrath that coursed through Tony Stark’s veins since that morning a few weeks ago.

The morning where his whole world collapsed was the worst morning of Tony’s life, and he’d once had to take a seven AM quantum physics exam while drunk and crashing from ecstacy.

(To his credit he’d still managed a solid B even though at the time he was pretty sure the ink on the paper was dancing to the Piña Colada Song.)

So he was pretty salty that someone had not only figured out the reaction process for his ARC reactors and how to fuck with the continual flow to cause a feedback loop that overloaded the damn palladium cores, he was especially outraged that they had done it en masse.

The perfect gold standard for clean energy that was his legacy - yes, _his_ , because even though the ARC reactors were originally Howard’s invention, Tony was the one that made them _work_ \- were previously thought impervious to sabotage. It was a guarantee that he himself supplied and it had been a major selling point.

Tony couldn’t decide what to do if and when he ever met who figured out the overload process. He’d either unintentionally geek about it and ask them how they puzzled it out, or punch them square in the face.

It was a 50/50 chance, honestly.

And then those HYDRA fuckers really messed with Stark Industries’ operation and had either stolen or blown up every supply truck they’d tried to send to the major metropolitan areas. It was getting worse by the day: their factories had been shut down, and their supply warehouses were being picked off one by one. Which meant not only did HYDRA have a _very_ long reach, but that there was also a leak from pretty high up in Stark Industries. Maybe just a security breach, maybe a mole.

So now here’s Tony, holed up with Pepper in the Old Man’s bunker from way back when, trying to figure out how to restart the reactors without fresh palladium cores.

It was not going well.

He was just about to to throw a tantrum, the urge to chuck the simulated mini-reactor he was tinkering with across the room and lay back onto the floor and holler obscenities when Pepper said something...but not to him, apparently.

Why? Who? What…?

There were three men, alphas by the smell of it, looking a little worse for wear, standing in the door.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bunker?”

They gaped at him, and the small man in front’s almond eyes widened before exclaiming, “Holy shit, you’re Tony Stark.”

“Well yes,” Tony said acidly. “You’re in a Stark bunker, who did you think would be here?”

“Uh, no one?” the large man with the mustache said.

“How did you get in? I have _security_ , what in all that is- JARVIS, how did they get into my bunker?”

“ _Sir, they opened the door with a key that enacted a ‘Tit for Tat’ protocol that overrode all of my security systems._ ”

“Tit for Tat?” Tony stared at the intruders again, before a spark ignited in the back of his mind. “Wait a minute. Is one of you a Morris? Uh, Murphy? Matarazzo?”

The man with the almond eyes was now looking wholly unimpressed. “Morita,” he said flatly.

Tony snapped his fingers in recognition. “That’s it! Morita. You’re pretty young to have fought in the War.”

Morita rolled his eyes. “Thought you were supposed to be smart? My Pop fought in the war, saved some rich guy’s neck I guess. Guy by the name of Howard’s all I know. Anyway, that guy gave my Pop this key, said if ever things got real sketchy, we could lay low here. Pop passed on a while back and left me the key and coordinates.”

“Well, some rich guy? That was my dad. Howard Stark.”

The man with a mustache let out a whistle. “Damn, Morita, your Pop was a man of mystery!”

Morita snorted.

Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Well! Thanks to your Pop for saving my Old Man, and welcome to the Total Apocalyptic Bunker of Doom. Anyone care for a drink?”

Pepper sighed. “Tony…”

“What? I can’t have a drink to share with my new friends? Come on, Pep, you know how bad I am at playing well with others. Gotta get on their good side.”

Pepper shook her head and smiled, and said, “You’re right about that. Welcome to the bunker, gentlemen, I’m Pepper. We know Tony and Morita, and you are?”

“Dum Dum,” said the man in the mustache. Tony surprisingly didn’t have the urge to snark at the nickname, and instead was mildly impressed that he bore it with a sense of pride.

“Gabe,” said the one that had been quietly observing up until this point.

“Alright, we’ve established that we can all spend the rest of the End of Days lounging around here braiding each other’s hair. What’s your poison, fellas?”

“Anything,” said Morita.

Tony looked at him appreciatively. “Man after my own heart. To the bar!”

\---

Several hours and drinks later, after the three men had each chosen their own bedrooms and they’d all sat down to what seemed to be the first decent meal for them in weeks, Tony and Gabe were the last men standing. Or slumping, rather, on one of the extravagant sofas. The others had either passed out on the floor playing Go Fish (Dum Dum, Morita) or gone to bed with grace and dignity (Pepper). Tony was now listening with rapture about the club that Gabe ran.

“No, ‘s like,” the man slurred a little, “alphas only, right? But not the shitheads. Cuz there are a lotta shithead alphas out there.”

Tony nodded. “Those guys are just… the worst.”

“Right!” said Gabe. “They’re not allowed in. It’s just… guys like us that want to be decent humans, to do more, be seen as more. That could go toe to toe with any beta intellectually or emotionally, and do the right thing when the situation calls for it.”

The Stark men were alphas, but the name opened many doors for Tony. He had seen people be discriminated against for their designation, but somehow society thought the name ‘Stark’ gave him protection. How many genius-level alphas like Tony were out there, not given opportunities because they didn’t have a famous dad? Too many. It wasn’t fair.

“That’s pretty cool. How do you stand it though, when members start getting…” Tony flapped his hand, searching for the right words. “All rutty?”

Gabe laughed and leaned in, like he was telling Tony a secret. “Well, we got a pre-rut fight club too. Runs a couple nights a week, but only pre-rut alphas are allowed to participate on any given night. Keeps things fair, and clean.”

Tony nodded. “That’s a good system.”

“Thanks! Bucky thought of it.” Gabe suddenly looked sad.

“Bucky got taken, right?” Tony asked, and Gabe nodded in affirmation. “I’m sorry about that, man. I’ll do everything I can to find him for you.”

“Thanks Tony. You should come by the club sometime.”

“Oh yeah? Thought you had to be a member.”

“You are a member! You could’a thrown us out on our asses. Instead, here we are. You’re a good guy, Tone. A real good guy.”

Tony’s heart ached for a second, like it grew three sizes spontaneously, Grinch-style.  

“Don’t go spreading that around. I got an image to maintain.”

Gabe crossed his heart and took another sip of his drink.

\---

Three days later, Dum Dum hollered loud enough that Tony thought the bunker was under attack. It turns out that their friend Bucky was safe, and the little omega with him was also fine.

Tony was instantly jealous at the joy this news brought his friends. He wanted them to care about him that much, why was this Bucky so special, anyway? Tony had money and resources and whatever else they could want-

Dum Dum tugged Tony into a bear hug, hollering about how the Howlies would be back together, and he couldn’t wait for Bucky to meet their newest member, Bucky was gonna love Tony, they’re the same kind of asshole.

Tony felt the jealousy fade immediately, and it was replaced with a new, warm feeling.

It was interesting.

Kind of felt like home.

 


	4. In Which Tasha Faces a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap takes place after Chapter 14 of Noctem.
> 
> Also Chicklette is an amazing beta and I love her.

She hadn’t been Natalia Alianovna Romanova for quite some time. That version of her was outdated, underdeveloped, desperate. In some strange way since becoming Natasha Romanoff she felt better, more whole. Well, less empty, anyway.

Almost like she had a reason to live.

Oh sure, she had _purpose_ , she’d had that since she could form reliable memories-

 _What is your purpose?_  
_To comply, Headmistress._  
_Very good._  
  
-but having a reason to live was a different thing entirely.

Her life in New York with SHIELD and Bucky was once something beyond the realm of imagination for her. There was once only Prima ballerina by evening, and operative always. There was once only choreography, of both ballet and assassination. There was once only training and performances. There was once only orders.

She was the best in the world at what she did, helped as she was by her designation. It was a gift, they told her, to be a female alpha. It was a gift with use. If you cannot bear children, if your ruts are easily tamed, your life can be focused into something bigger and more important than basic urges.

Her own ruts all but disappeared with the right combination of suppressants, and yes, it was easier. She maintained the primal authority and instincts her alpha biology gave her, but without the scent she could be deployed on more covert ops, she could lay honey traps, she could be in the field without worrying about a rut cycle. Without the pull of omega scents she could comply easier.

Natalia had continued operating in the same manner for several years, her strong and dainty body almost at the edge of peak for a Prima, but not quite there. And then there was her last op as a Russian.

SHIELD had tracked her but Barton took one look at her and refused his shot. Why, she’ll never know, though he’d tried explaining it to her. But in that moment he didn’t just deny her death - he gave her _life_. He took her back to his bosses and started a shit storm.

SHIELD gave her her first choice: switch sides or be put down. The option to choose her own fate made her physically ill and wracked her body with shakes.

She switched sides.

It was hard at first, exercising free will. She was always waiting for the punishment for choosing wrong, and she felt lost without the guidance and structure of orders. That nearly caused her to self-destruct, because without orders she could not _comply_ and that was her _purpose_ and-

 _What is your purpose?_  
_To comply, headmistress.  
Very good._

Peggy Carter had given her philosophy books to read, about nihilism and existentialism. The non-answers to the unanswerable questions were not compatible with her programming. They made her head ache like it was splitting open and she vomited more than once from passages by Nietzsche. They helped her, though, just like Peggy said they might.

Natalia was standing in line at a Starbucks when she met Bucky. She was trying to figure out what to order, trying to quell the panic that rose in her as she trudged closer and closer to the front of the line. How was she supposed to choose? Why couldn’t they just _tell her_ what she needed to get, and why were there so many options, anyway? She wasn’t made for decisions like this, she was made to accept her fate, and suddenly the guy behind her stepped in front of her and ordered two simple coffees and handed her one with a look of understanding in his eyes.

Bucky became a cornerstone of her life that day. He had never known Natalia Alianovna Romanova, and she didn’t want him to. When he asked her name she answered ‘Natasha’. She became Tasha to him, and she learned what it was like to live a life beyond _purpose_ ; to live a life with _meaning_.

Thanks to Bucky, she was able to become comfortable making choices for herself, to be okay without having someone whisper orders in her ear, to feel like she wasn’t going to drown without the tether of a handler. He taught her how to be a person, not an asset. He meant everything to her; Tasha wasn’t Tasha without Bucky.

Tasha and Bucky went shopping and saw films and did things normal people did and it was _amazing_. And by herself she went to restaurants and cried at books and laughed in the rain. She did all of these things because she _chose_ to, because Bucky showed her how.

Fury saw the progress she was making and starting using her for more ops, started trusting her. He signed off on her anglicized name and instead of Operative Natalia Romanova she was Agent Natasha Romanoff.

Her life was good. She had Bucky and the alpha club (who treated her just like Bucky did and it made her heart feel so full it hurt), she had Fury and SHIELD, and she had Barton.

Barton was beta. He was also disheveled, chaotic, and always smelled like coffee. He had bad fashion sense and couldn’t wake up on time. He had messy hair and ate too much pizza, he talked in circles and didn’t make sense. He was friendly to those he liked and hard as steel to those he didn’t, though those people were few. Barton was a wreck. He was everything she was programmed _not_ to be.

Tasha adored him.

Also his incredible mastery of the bow and/or any range weapon made her wet unlike anything she’d ever experienced. So, you know. There was that.

Tasha and Barton ran ops together, they had each other’s backs and made a great team, which was new for her. She never would have expected them to work well together, but they did. Barton had met Natalia but had become friends and partners with Nat, as he called her. He had seen her struggle to change and had been there for her along the way. Between Barton and Bucky, they helped her grow into a whole new person...into Tasha.

Sometimes she wondered if she would have become someone else if she hadn’t met Bucky; some other Tasha of a sort. But there was no Tasha without Bucky, so there wasn’t a point in wondering.

This is why when she got the call from Dum Dum that Bucky had been taken by HYDRA for the second time in as many weeks, she felt Tasha fading and Natalia settling in again.

 _What is your purpose?_  
_To comply, Headmistress._  
_Very good._

This new, insidious horror that took root inside her very soul was _exactly_ the reason she wasn’t allowed emotional connections as Natalia. Friends are weakness. Family is weakness. There is no weakness; only compliance.

But she had worked so, _so_ hard to become more than she was. She learned that while friends and family were indeed weakness, they were also what gave life meaning. She would die before going back to that cold and empty existence of only darkness and purpose.

She didn’t want to be Natalia again, but that coat of desperation and hollowness slipped right over her shoulders and settled into her bones. Tasha and Natalia now coexisted within her, galvanizing her resolve. Tasha wanted Bucky back because she needed him; Natalia wanted Bucky back so she didn’t have to exist anymore.

The only things that mattered to Agent Romanoff now were returning Bucky to safety, destroying everything that interfered with that objective, and reducing HYDRA to desolation. And then, finally, she could become only Tasha once more.

_What is your purpose?_

_To live a life with meaning._

 


	5. In Which Bucky Is Held

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Chapter 14 of Carpe Noctem.
> 
> Beta'd by Chicklette, who is extraordinary.

At first, there was light.

No… there was darkness. Wasn’t there? There was something. Bucky was sure there was something.

He was flying. No, he was riding a wave. What was he…?

He was on a waterslide, he was sure of it.

\---

He’d never felt such pain.

Except… there was no pain at all?

He was too hot and too cold. He was happy, but had never been so sad. He wanted it to stop and never wanted it to end, and it was too much and not enough-

\---

_...so fuckin’ strong, he keeps fightin’..._

_...burning the sedation off at an increased…_

_...wonderful specimen you’ve brought, absolute perfection…_

_...shhh, settle down, alpha…_

\---

Bucky was in a meadow. Or was it an orchard? It was a lazy summer afternoon, the sky a particular shade of blue that he remembered from somewhere. He had a feeling that an evening thunderstorm would roll in later. He smelled plums on the breeze, along with fresh-cut grass. There was a hive of bees nearby, and the sweet honey scent lingered with the others. He was sure someone, somewhere, was baking an apple pie.

It was _so_ sweet and inviting.

He was never going to leave.

\---

“...looked up your service history, Sergeant. You did your country proud, but we feel you can do better than your prior achievements.”

“-Sergeant James Barnes, 32557038-”

“You have a calling, a chance to be-”

“-Sergeant James B. Barnes, 32557038-”

“-more than just a soldier. You will be a symbol, you will help usher in-”

“-Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038-”

“-a new era of hierarchy, prosperity, and proper regime. You will be-”

“-Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038-”

\---

Every nerve ending was on fire. They were ripping him apart, piece by piece.

\---

Bucky stayed in his orchard.

No matter what they did, they couldn’t take him out of his orchard. He stopped thinking, stopped feeling after a while.

He lay under a plum tree, watching the fat bees buzz about the branches, and sometimes, he made shapes of the fluffy clouds as they drifted past. Eventually, he was going to go see where that apple pie was and try to get himself a slice.

\---

He was on a waterslide again.

He was also hungry, so hungry… when he got back to the orchard he was gonna have to pick himself a plum.

\---

The orchard didn’t feel right. There was a metallic tang in the air, signalling the thunderstorm was coming and it was going to be _bad._ The sky became a twisted, grotesque thing, and the grass was burning. The plums were rotting on their branches and falling around him, gale-force winds had kicked up-

\---

_...caught him in one of the corridors, looks like he’d make a good morale-booster…_

_...Bucky! Bucky, listen to me!..._

\---

The orchard needed saving.

Bucky could do that. He was good at saving things.

\---

“Bucky!” someone was shouting.

Bucky tried to lift his head, but he might still be on a waterslide since everything was _sloshy_.

“3255-” he felt his mouth saying. Who was shouting?

Bucky tried to focus. He saw a bunch of goons surrounding a man, the most _beautiful_ little man. Bucky was honored just to get to look at him. He looked like the orchard _felt_ : home.

\---

“...that’s right. You think I’m okay with what you did to me? With _this?”_

“Maybe you shoulda realized that someone might try to fight back, you cretinous tool!”

“Oh, I’m gonna have fun with you, _omega_.”

Omega.

Bucky had an omega. Bucky loved his omega. Actually, this omega sounded a lot like his omega, if he could clear the sloshy cotton in his head…

\---

That horrible scent spiked, and sliced through his brain-haze. That was the scent that he never wanted to smell again, that was so offensive to him he had sworn to himself to do everything in his power to prevent it from happening again. That scent, that awful, cloying, burning scent, meant only one thing.

Bucky choked on his dry throat, before uttering a cracked and dusty question.

\---

“Steve?”

 


	6. In Which Fury Is Suspicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Chicklette, who does so much more for me than she can know. <3

Nick Fury was getting pretty damn impatient with all of this HYDRA business.

They were like the rats of New York: disgusting, ever-present, and lurking in all the places you didn’t want them. And no matter how many you caught there were more out there, and it was impossible to take down every last one.

Except unlike the rats of New York, HYDRA had Colonel Nicholas J. Fury playing exterminator, and nobody had ever accused him of not being thorough.

He had his best people working on it - hell, he had _all_ his people working on it - and they were finally making some progress. Romanoff and Barton had been taking down pack after pack of these fuckers, but they hadn’t been able to get close to anything resembling intelligent leadership until Romanoff’s friend had been captured.

Normally Fury would be annoyed that one of his best agents had been distracted by a personal matter. But this was Romanoff, who had a hell of a time just _forming_ personal connections, so he couldn’t really fault her for protecting one of the few she had managed. That it had led to a huge data mine had been the cherry on top of the shit sundae.

Fury was pleased that he was able to give the government and mayor an update, show them that SHIELD had made actual progress instead of floundering around like a bunch of amateurs playing a video game.

“Call the mayor’s office,” he ordered his AI.

“ _Calling Mayor Pierce’s office,”_ the AI responded.

A boring melody that would be at home in one of the elevators Grandad operated played for a few moments, until the mayor’s face showed up in holograph against his wall.

“Nick!” he was greeted. “How are things?”

“To tell the truth, pretty damn good. We’re getting close to HYDRA’s main intelligence ring.”

It might have been the lighting, or the shadows messing with his one good eye, but it looked to Fury like Pierce’s smile faltered for a split-second.

“That’s great! How did you manage it?”

“Someone of interest to us got captured, and the intel we had led us straight to a base upstate. It wasn’t a simple warehouse like we thought, either. Place was crawling with agents who were performing genetic editing on alphas and omegas. They were trying to beef up the alphas, brainwash them to be sympathetic to their cause, create good little soldiers. As for the omegas?”

Fury took a moment to scoff in disgust while the mayor’s polite and interested smile remained distinctly plastic-looking.

“As for the omegas… suffice it to say that it wasn’t anything good. They were being physically and mentally groomed for breeding. The whole damn place looked like a jacked-up brood-house from the days of old.”

A moment of silence.

“Well, what all were your teams able to do?”

“We extracted all of their data. Our guys are decrypting and mining it as we speak. We got names, corporations, logistics, the whole gambit. Successfully rescued all those were captured, including our person of interest. And then…” Fury paused for dramatic effect and to let loose a feral smile.

“Then?” Pierce asked tightly.

“Then we blew the whole place to kingdom come.”

Another split-second pause.

“Great! That’s great, Nick. Outstanding work. I’m glad you were finally able to crack through their defenses. Tell me, what made you suspicious that there was a base upstate? Last I heard you had no idea where any of their operations were.”

“Well, they captured the wrong guy and one of mine took it pretty personal. There’s no motivator quite like revenge, is there?”

“Well, you and I both know the truth of that, that’s for sure. Like I said, great work. Although maybe we could stand to borrow a page or two out of their playbook.”

Fury’s blood slowed. He really hoped he wasn’t hearing what he was. This was Alexander fucking Pierce he was talking to, he should be able to trust this man with his life. But, Fury had learned the hard way not to trust _anyone_.

“Sir?”

“How long did it take to crack their defenses? That’s some top-notch security they’ve got there. And that whole operation they’re running, the cascading power failures...so in sync it was like an orchestra. It was almost beautiful.”

“Beautiful? In less than twenty minutes they brought nearly a quarter of the United States population to its knees. In less than three days, a quarter of the entire continent of North America. They’re crippling western civilization, and you think it’s beautiful?”

“Well now, I’m not saying I’m a fan of it, and I’m not saying I condone it. I just think they’ve got some stellar organization, that’s all.”

The tension in Fury’s gut went down - barely.

“But you have to admit…” Pierce continued, and the tension in Fury came back doubled. “There’s a certain appeal to it all.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“The alphas being top dog again. Come on, Nick, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about taking it all back from the betas.”

“Alex, history has shown time and again it’s not a good idea for alphas to be given free reign. That’s not what we’re built for.”

“Oh? And who _is_ built for it? The betas? Look what they’ve done, marginalized other delegations, tried to shame us for being what we are.”

“That is _exactly_ what HYDRA’s doing right now. That is exactly what you’re talking about admiring. You don’t see the irony in that?”

“Who would you have in charge then, _omegas_?” Pierce scoffed. “They couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“I don’t know about that. Seems like they’ve got a lot more going for them than you give them credit for. And hey, they were made to take care of shit. We could really use some of that right about now.”

“Nicholas, you cannot be serious.”

“That depends. I’m about as serious as you are. So tell me, Alexander, how serious are we talking?”

There was a flash in Pierce’s eyes, and his smile tensed.

“Ah, you know me, ever the philosopher. Listen, thanks for the update. Congratulations again, but I have business to attend. Keep me updated on your progress.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, the hologram blinked off, and Romanoff sauntered out of the corner.

“What do you think?” he asked her, already knowing the answer, already agreeing with her.

“I think he’s HYDRA,” she answered nonchalantly.

Fury ground his teeth. “Let’s add him to the list. Grab Barton and get rolling on the next op, I’ll check in with Stark.”

She nodded an affirmative at him and left the room, and Fury heaved a sigh.

Fucking rats. Always where you don’t want them to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come [Tumble](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/duelingnebulas) with me!


End file.
